Mischief and shenanigans
by BzzyBee
Summary: One shots, written to prevent a writer's block. - Every short story is rated accordingly, the rate can be found underneath the chapter title.


**Mischief and shenanigans**  
One shots, written to prevent a writer's block

 **Blonde, ginger blonde.  
** _The captain breaks all the rules to participate in a secret and forbidden love affair.  
Rating: M._

A sheepish laugh appeared on his face, the faint light enhanced his upcoming wrinkles ever so slightly. His full body weight rested on his right arm, as the other caressed her body. All though he was sitting on top of her, she could barely feel a thing.

Slowly she traced his old, faded brown jacket. One final tug in order to get it off. "Come on" she groaned, throwing back her head in despair. Her blonde hair ruffled from the movement.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "You know I can't, soon people will start waking up. I have to head home."

She grunted, pouted and folded her arms over each other.

"Dahlia…"

"I know; I know" she finally gave in. "You have to get going. I just like it so much, not sure if I can miss it."

His breath stocked as she licked her lips seductively. It was unfair how she knew what to do; how to play him; how to get away with things. But the man loved her for it. It wasn't, according to his feelings, long ago that he was able to pick her up and protect her. The little girl he had once watched for his late friend, had grown into a stunning, razor-mouthed woman. Every piece of him made sure to let him know that he should stop doing what he did: this was wrong.

The same counted for her. All though, she had never seen Cortes as a father figure. To her he was a strong man who knew, and often got, exactly what he wanted. It's what she admired in him. And it wasn't until she hit the age of sixteen that she realised that her admiration was slowly developing into attraction. Though, she didn't act upon it. Not until recently, anyways. She knew she didn't stand a chance. He was the captain; admired by many women. So her plan had been easy and straight forward: find an excuse to be alone with him – which basically meant asking him to teach her new fighting tactics.

Every Sunday she would go to his house, and he would show her every move he could think off. And if she didn't do it right, which she made sure was quite often, he'd press his body against hers and push her into the right direction.

And as time progressed, she made sure to 'develop' their physical contact. An innocent mention that it was too hot to wear their jackets had put him in the position of training her in his shirt, which later on – with help from an unreasonably hot day - turned into him being shirtless. After this she started to gently stroke his arms with the tip of her fingers, claiming it was to see how he flexed his muscles so that she could do the same, which led to her caressing his fingers as he steadied her body, to her softly moaning whenever he pressed his body against hers. Her plan had been slightly pathetic and ever so devilish. But it had done the trick. Because after twelve very long weeks of training, the two of them no longer could stand it and ended up making out in his backyard. Neither of them cared about what people would think when they took it outside; neither of them cared about their age difference when they took off their clothes and neither of them cared about the rules Marcus had once made about relationships between leaders and their crew when they trace each other's bodies with kisses because damn it, Marcus broke the rule himself when he went after the much younger Mila.

"Maybe I can stay five more minutes" he panted as he bent over and gave her a wild kiss. "Maybe" he repeated as he traced her jaw line.

"Mm" was her only response.

Five minutes had turned into twenty, and when the captain finally stepped foot outside; the sun was already rising. He cursed his uncontrollable desire and quickly made his way towards the Saint Nazaire, where his crew would already be waiting for him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, sir" Wayan joked as the red headed captain set foot on his own ship. "Just a joke" he added quickly.

"You surprised me, that's all." Cortes entered his cabin, with Wayan in pursuit.

"Where's Dahlia?"

Cortes sat down and gestured Wayan to do the same. "Late."

"Again?"

Cortes shrugged.

The morning meeting was short and the cabin was packed. Cortes was sending out a fleet of pirate ships to collect water, Wayan would be in the lead.

"This way you can practice being a captain, which one day you'll undoubtingly will be." He grinned at his crew member, who responded with a grateful smile. "Dahlia stays here on ground control –"

"Again?" Mahad raised his left eyebrow.

"Yes, that's what you get when you're constantly late. Right Dahlia?"

Dahlia responded with an obedient nod, noticeably uncomfortable to be put in this position.

Mahad wasn't pleased with the answer but decided to let it go. He could fight it and demand her to be scooted off towards the furthest away block he could think off – but what's the point? Her denial when he told her he truly had feelings for her still stung like a bee. And all though he wanted things to go well for her, a part of him still wanted to smack her for not loving him back.

"Alright, you're all dismissed. Except you, Dahlia."

"Wait… me?" Dahlia stuttered out of a surprise.

Cortes nodded and gave her a stern look.

When the room was cleared, he said, without turning around: "now let me give you your real punishment for being late."

Dahlia's heartrate went off the charts as the captain made his way towards her. All though she was positive that no one could see them thanks to the reflective glass, it was still a very exciting idea that any person who'd press their face against it would see the two of them. "Me?" She breathed. "You're the one wanting to punish me in broad day light" she stroked his inner thigh through the fabric and added: "in a room where your crew just was."

Cortes smiled and pulled down her pants, revealing her panties. "You think no one would've noticed you showing up to a meeting in unusually sexy panties?" He faced her head on and started to kiss her cheek, followed by the tip of her nose and then her lips. It wasn't long until the two of them were fighting their own private battle: his tongue against hers. "So naughty" he noted as she unzipped his jacket, awkwardly tugged it off and threw it on the ground. He could feel her lips curl up to a smile.

"Take it off" she said out of breath, in-between kissing.

"Hmm?"

"Your shirt. Take it off."

He interrupted their tongue battle to obediently take off his black, tight T-shirt: all while trying to maintain eye contact with her. As soon as his shirt hit the ground and his muscled upper-half was exposed, he continued to kiss her. His hands explored her body: one sneaking its way up her shirt in order to gently rub her shoulders; the other reached her private zone and playfully managed to make her moan. Her moans were nearly muted, but the vibration of her mouth against his as she tried to free her face to moan out of her pleasure was all the more reason to not let her go.

The two of them were so focussed on one another that neither of them had heard the handle click; the rusty door open or a person stepping in. But what they did hear was a loud gasp followed by "you are sick!"

Dahlia's eyes widened as she pushed Cortes away, "Mahad!"

A secret passionate affair it was no more. Two wrongs don't make a right, but it sure as Hell feels good.


End file.
